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Monday, July 24, 2006


I am sorry. I am. As I write this I do so with my proverbial head hung low with shame. I have a new obsession. It’s sick, it’s sick really. Okay, first let me admit that I, who have a heart only for Blogger. Who will always blog, when there is the time and the inspiration. I, who takes this blog very serious, have been MySpace-ing as of late. I’m sorry! Wait its worse! I have become addicted to the wicked train wrecks that are some sorry loser’s life. Reading the rants of randomly found people who use their MySpace page as a Jerry Spring-ish platform to launch white trash attacks on other weirdo drugs-made-me-fuck-my-dog-but-I-keep-doing-it-because-we-are-in-love people. It’s outrageous. I mean, as I have said trying to explain my problem to others, it is like watching a burning building and thinking there is no way someone is still in there alive and then having to stare waiting for them to pull out a body or a flaming almost corpse. I am a MySpace rubber necker. What does that say about me?

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Imaginary Friends

When I was little (I am not sure what age because it was pre concrete memory, so all I have to go on is wisps of thought and my mom) I had an imaginary friend named Rocking Chair. I would lay on the carpet in the living room and use my toes to move the rocking chair, and then talk as if my friend was there. There were VERY few occasions when Rocking Chair would venture out the living room or far from her chair, but it did happen.
That being said, I have not seen nor heard from Rocking Chair in well over ~ well, at least twenty years. Quite honestly, while I do not believe there are set ages when people become to old for various life experiences, I believe that I, myself, have moved pass the stage where imaginary friends should be an issue.
Only, I do, I have an imaginary friend. Not just the multiple Sonya's who take residence inside my head and fight each other over EVERYTHING like Siamese twins trying to decide which way to go. Oh no, not just them. A real true imaginary friend, one that I neither desire to continue having imaginary conversations with, nor do I call upon when I am lonely.
I can't seem to shake her, her little thoughts, her snide remarks, the way she'd look at me, the things we'd laugh at. (Like in the car when I am picking music or when something makes me smile, I look over and some silly part of me expects to see her in the passenger seat. To hear her fuss baout not taking my eyes off the road.) I can't seem to block my mind from hearing what I think she'd say or imagining the way a day might go with her.
See and here is the other thing, does it count as imaginary if the friend I am imagining is real we just don't talk like once we did? Or does that make it even worse? Because I would love the imaginary Leo to go and the real Leo to come and go as she pleases, but I can't get her out of my world. She's just SO intertwined. She is so a part of my make up I can't wriggle free.